The Hollow Years
by CorpusInfinium
Summary: A short that I'm working into a longer piece. The world of Left 4 Dead as viewed by Brandon, a young zombie horror enthusiast who finally gets the zombie apocalypse he's been waiting for his whole life.


My name is Brandon and I am a survivor.****

I had a somewhat peaceful upbringing, we lived in the middle of the woods, outside of a town around the outskirts of Austin, in an old wooden house built by my grandfather. Growing up as a lively little sprout in that isolated part of the world was boring, I won't lie. Often for entertainment I'd find myself staying up late and peering through the banisters of the stairs, watching horror films that my parents seemed obsessed with, through that I suppose I inherited their obsession. With my discovery of the Internet and its subsequent wonders this obsession grew, I was watching films and scouring stories of a genre of horror that just seemed to grip me the most, Zombie horror. Being stuck in the middle of a quiet forest next to a small town, I often found myself pining for something more. That being a Zombie-induced bloodbath of an apocalypse. It wasn't just a fleeting feeling either, I'd just wither my time away in class and any spare time I had at home just quietly sitting in a world entirely my own, thinking through my plans, picking carefully the friends that I would take with me, where we would hole up and the people that we could meet, all while slaughtering masses of undead freaks, and hey, if a few people I just didn't like happened to stray in front of my weapon, then they'd just have to die too.****

Considering I wasn't well versed in the world of literature I had even surprisingly read several books on the matter, by those who had done research similar to my own. That being said, my research was just sitting with my eyes wired to my computer screen, either watching zombie flicks online or playing any game I could get my hands on that had those brain-loving mother-fuckers in it somewhere. I often found what I read lacked realism however, which it would considering nobody had experienced a true wide-scale outbreak, as there had never been one, much to my dismay. For most people the experience would traumatize and shock. I however, found the thought almost tantalising and It would also occupy my dreams as well as my waking hours.****

My first sight of a live zombie attack is forever engraved in my memory, even today. I shot from my bed one night and ran so fast down my old staircase it barely had time to creak, turning sharply right into the living room, jumping from the sofa to the window ledge and perching myself like an owl so I could peer from the window into the abyss of the night. The moon was unusually bright and hung low in the sky, casting shadows of the trees that surrounded my house onto the front garden. I wouldn't usually be so elated at 3am, but something struck me as out of the ordinary. I had rolled myself from my computer chair to my unrelentingly uncomfortable bed and pulled the sheets half-heartedly over myself, normal for a Friday night spent on the computer, however, as I slipped from consciousness I felt compelled to look from my window. I slid the latch and turned the handle, opening it as far as it would yield. It hadn't been opened in months being the shut-in that I am and the harsh weather from months passed had simply rusted and stiffened any metal it met. I have no idea what possessed me to release fresh air into the pit I resided in, especially as it was February, and snow had recently blessed my little woodland home.****

I wasn't wonderfully pleased about it either, the snow I mean, as It meant I couldn't go to school, which in turn meant I had , a completely non-existent social life. I leaned out of the window and an ice-cold wind pelted my face. I barely felt it, for the sight I beheld I could scarcely believe. A figure, black in the night, shuffled its way along the path from the woods and came stumbling toward the house. Despite the cold night air encasing me I began to sweat profusely, my mouth moistened with anticipation and delight. Could this truly have been the start of what I had been waiting for? Were my wildest dreams all coming true? No. My hopes were dashed rather quickly as a loud belch and a slur of words came from the mouth of this bleak figure. It was a merely a friend of mine, drunk and dilapidated. I say he was a friend, the only reason I really recognised him was because of the repugnant visage that he bestowed upon the world. He was the resident tough guy, the "Alpha male" at our school. How he had managed to walk the path and keep his composure defied all belief, however there he stood, worsening my opinion of him by pissing on my mother's garden plants. I'd have stopped him, however she paid more attention to those plants than I ever received, so I figured the screams that would follow her heartbreaking discovery in the morning would be rather delightful. It was then, as the poor fool was almost collapsed on the snow ridden path that I spotted another figure in the dead of night. Figuring it was probably one of his friends come to drag him home I was about ready to withdraw myself from the outside world once more. ****

I proceeded to draw my window to a close, yet as I did so I heard probably the most stomach-turning of noises ever to be heard by mortal ears. It was the unmistakable squelch of teeth against flesh, the crunch of molars through bone, the ripping of tendons and the tearing of skin under the bite of a jaw. I hesitated. Not through cowardice but through the thought of my dream becoming reality if I looked up. I dared not. Instead pelting down the staircase and winding up on the window ledge which I had positioned myself on. I looked through the two large panes of glass that separated me from the outside world and there it was, A creature I thought magnificent stood against the moonlight, flesh hanging from its mouth and a crimson tide flowing down its body. Its victim had perished instantly, in his drunken state he had no time to scream or shout, the pain, alcohol and exertion had the poor fool's heart give out. He laid there, a gaping wound in his neck, lifeless and growing cold.****

I had never been so excited In my entire life.


End file.
